


XXVI. Waiting for the Break

by BubblyWashingMachine



Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [26]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, FebuWhump2021, Febuwhump, Febuwhumpday26, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, No Romance, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, POV Vanya Hargreeves, Post-Season/Series 02, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Vanya Hargreeves Gets a Hug, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, can you believe i've done 26 consecutive days of this, discussions around the implications of canon, five gets to have his breakdown, i forgot to say the prompt is recovery, i guess, it's hug city in here, motel rooms again, you better believe they both get hugs by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyWashingMachine/pseuds/BubblyWashingMachine
Summary: Five sits down in the shitty motel armchair for a second, and it’s perhaps the first time Vanya’s seen him stay still for longer than ten seconds since they arrived in this unfamiliar 2019.She looks at him closely while the others clamour around the food. The dark circles under his eyes are prominent and purple, and his skin has a sickly sheen to it. He looks like someone who hasn’t slept in two weeks. And the way he holds himself, as if his ribs are in pain, his limp, the scratch on his neck and the dark, blossoming bruise across his forehead…Of course, as soon as he catches her watching, he jumps up again. “What is it?”“Nothing,” she says, startled. “I’m just… wondering if you’re okay. You look like you might collapse any second.”“I’m fine,” Five says, and she can tell that he is lying....Set after season two. The Hargreeves siblings - the ones we know and love, not the sparrows - are fugitives, hiding out in a motel room to lay low and lick their wounds. Tensions are running high, but what Vanya's really concerned about is Five - he's hiding something. Something... is really wrong. Vanya knows the signs, and she knows her brother.He's about to break.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137428
Comments: 14
Kudos: 133





	XXVI. Waiting for the Break

**Author's Note:**

> Me yesterday: oh waaah i'm so tired of this blah blah writing sucks  
> Me this morning, immediately waking up and churning out 4000 words: hehe writing is my passion
> 
> pros of febuwhump: i am better writer now. my roman numerals have gotten great. i get lots of nice compliments to wake up to every day.  
> cons of febuwhump: my hands literally ache from typing so much
> 
> Anyway. This is like... self-indulgence again, after I wrote it I was like?? have I written this exact same fic before? and the answer was yes. and i'll do it again if I want to goddamn it.   
> if i could dream about season 3 without fear overwhelming me,, i would dream of this. stick them in a motel. hence why this is the second fic i've written about post-s2 where they're in a motel lmao
> 
> warning: the end got angsty because i didn't know how to get around it but. just know that everything turns out as fine as it could be. if that means anything. also i stole the title from Ransom. you know, the book I had to study in year 12 for English? this is how you know I'm a nerd
> 
> OH and I'm mentally dedicating this to the lovely kneworder... because of knife monopoly. and out of love. <3 unfortunately i am too self-conscious to ACTUALLY like, tag them, so kneworder if you happen to be reading this. know that i love you and this fic was made with you in mind. afdhgfjfjh that's so embarrassing--
> 
> Enjoy!

“Hey, guys, the uh—”

“What is it now?” Diego snaps at Luther, throwing his hands up. “Like this day could get _any_ goddamn worse.”

Luther hesitates. “Well… now I think I shouldn’t tell you.”

Vanya, from where she’s laying on the bed, throws an arm over her face.

There are footsteps coming down the hall.

“The others are back,” she warns her brothers.

“Oh great,” Diego grumbles, though his relief is palpable. Tensions are high for the Hargreeves at the moment. Luther doesn’t finish what he was saying, already bounding to the door and opening it eagerly.

“Thanks,” Allison says, her face obscured by the pile of shopping bags in her arms. She staggers inside their shitty motel room and dumps it all on the bed – right on top of Vanya. “Oh, sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Vanya mumbles.

“We’re home!” Klaus exclaims unnecessarily, like he’s some saviour returning to reclaim a throne. It makes Vanya smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” Diego says, pulling him inside and sticking his head into the hallway before slamming the door shut. “Were you followed?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Klaus says. “And we thought, hey, why not invite the _whole_ family together, both sets of Hargreeves, maybe have a barbecue—”

“No, we weren’t,” Allison snaps, rummaging through the bags in full Mom-mode, pulling out clothes and shoving them into piles, the sorting system of which Vanya cannot decipher. She presses herself back against the headboard so that she’s not in the way.

There is a flash of light that briefly basks everyone in a familiar blue glow, and then Five is there. “Here’s your food,” he says, and drops the takeaway bags onto the carpet.

“Gee thanks,” Klaus says. “I can’t wait to eat it off the floor like an animal.”

“Pick it up yourself,” Five snaps, but there’s no bite to his words. He sits down in the armchair for a second, staring at the wall, and it’s perhaps the first time Vanya’s seen him stay still for longer than ten seconds since they arrived in this unfamiliar 2019.

She looks at him closely while the others clamour around the food and Allison’s shopping bags. The dark circles under his eyes are prominent and purple, and his skin has a sickly sheen to it. He looks like someone who hasn’t slept in two weeks. And the way he holds himself, as if his ribs are in pain, his limp, the scratch on his neck and the dark, blossoming bruise across his forehead…

Vanya feels awful. God, how are they all so blind? How could she not have noticed before now?

Of course, as soon as he catches her watching, he jumps up again. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she says, startled. “I’m just…”

“Just _what?_ ”

“Wondering if you’re okay. You look like you might collapse any second.”

“I’m fine,” he says, and she can tell that he is lying.

“Oh. You _know_ that – that’s why you’re not taking a rest, isn’t it? You know that as soon as you take a break you’re gonna fall asleep and not wake up for twenty-four hours.” _Or break into a million pieces._

He glares at her, and doesn’t deny it. “You’d all immediately die without me here.”

She thinks of the hour in which he, Allison and Klaus were gone, and how frayed tempers became between Luther and Diego in that time. “I think that’s a little extreme…”

He changes the subject. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you lying?” Luther glances up at them, and she lowers her voice. “You need to take a breather, Five. Please.”

“I _need_ to fix this!” The way he’s looking at her is desperate and angry – he’s not seeing her, not really. The edges of his words are frayed. _He’s going to fall apart,_ Vanya thinks.

Vanya swallows, and carefully reaches out to take his hand. He stares at it like it’s something that might bite him.

“Sit next to me,” she says, “for fifteen minutes. Sit, eat something, and let Diego have a look at your injuries. That’s all I’ll ask.”

“I don’t need—”

“Please? For me?” She begs. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Fifteen minutes,” he growls. “And Diego isn’t laying a _finger_ on me.”

“But you’re in pain.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

She looks down. This used to be so easy when they were children. “What if something gets infected and then you die?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says roughly, and then he pulls his hand out of her grasp and she thinks she’s failed, that she pushed too hard. A part of her is still expecting the wave of pain and rage and loss he must surely be feeling to overwhelm him. If she is destroyed, she thinks she would deserve it. He has every right to hate her.

_Not everyone is a bomb,_ whispers a voice in the back of her mind.

Yet still she is waiting for the break.

But he just hands her a greasy paper bag of spring rolls and climbs onto the bed next to her, uncaringly putting his filthy shoes all over Allison’s piles of clothes. “Here.”

“Thank you,” she says, breaking one in half and blowing on it, watching the steam rise. She feels – triumphant. An unfamiliar sensation.

Five takes a spring roll and goes to put it in his mouth – she snatches it.

“You’ll burn yourself.”

“I’m not a _child_ ,” he snaps, something flashing in his eyes.

She ignores it and tears it in two, and it already feels like it might burn her fingers. A cloud of steam escapes. “Doesn’t matter. These things are super hot.”

“I know,” he says.

“Just trust me. I’ve eaten a lot of takeout in my life,” she says, handing it back over. He eyes her warily. “I’m like an expert.”

“That’s a depressing achievement,” he responds, and then blows carefully on it, mimicking her. “But… your concern is touching, if unnecessary.”

“Someone needs to be concerned about you,” Vanya says, and then takes a bite, the flaky outside cracking and crumbling with a satisfying crunch. There’ll be crumbs _all_ over the bed, and yet, she doesn’t care. “You’re not gonna do it.”

“I have more important things to worry about,” Five says absently, and then does the same.

Their silence, far from being uncomfortable, is pleasant.

“Do you wanna see what I got you?” Klaus asks, leaning across the bed, noodles trailing from his mouth.

“Um. Sure?”

“You’re not even going to be recognizable when I’m done,” he says, tossing over a pile of clothes to Five and Vanya each. She doesn’t know if she should be insulted. “Isn’t being fugitives so much fun?”

“He’s joking,” Vanya says when Five’s face turns red. She holds up a long orange skirt. The colour is so bright that she cringes. “What _is_ this?”

“Like I said; unrecognizable.”

“I’m not wearing these,” Five says, throwing a pair of jeans in Klaus’ face.

“You’ve been wearing the same outfit for three years!” Klaus says.

“It’s been two weeks for me.”

_Like that’s much better,_ she thinks.

“Five, you can’t keep wearing our uniform,” Vanya says. “It’s… distinctive.”

“And it stinks!” Klaus adds. She shrugs. It’s kinda true.

Five scrunches up his face. “Ridiculous. We’re trapped in the wrong timeline and your priority is—”

“Our priority is staying low, and _recovering_ ,” Allison says from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Quit complaining and get with the program – it’s a _disguise_ , alright? Don’t make me _make_ you.”

Five picks at his spring roll, scowling. “Yes. You’re right.”

“I’m _sorry?”_ She says sharply.

“You’re right,” he says louder. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ll wear the disguise.”

“You’re not thinking clearly because you haven’t slept,” Vanya says gently, quietly.

Five eats the last half of a spring roll in one bite. “Your fifteen minutes are almost up,” is his irritated response, while chewing.

“Will you let us see your injuries?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She plays with the skirt. “Will you at least take a look yourself? I worry.”

“Well stop,” Five says.

“I’m not going to be able to stop worrying,” she says. “I’ll keep worrying until I know for sure that you’re alright.”

“You’re manipulating me.”

“I’ll lose sleep,” she sighs. “I’ll… cry.”

“You _won’t,”_ he says, glaring. But he snatches up some antiseptic wipes and bandages from a drugstore bag and slides off the bed, goes into the bathroom, and shuts the door.

“And take a shower!” She calls out, knowing that he can still hear her.

A second later, the pipes start screeching.

“That,” Luther says, “was very impressive.”

Vanya flushes. “No, he knew what I was doing.”

“And yet it worked,” Allison says.

“Also…” Luther says, “I was trying to tell you before, but—"

“ _THIS WATER IS FUCKING FREEZING_ ,” Five yells.

“Yeah. That’s what I… There’s no hot water,” Luther finishes, putting his head in his hands.

Allison leans forward, holding a pair of scissors. “Now, Vanya… I had an idea…”

…

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Vanya says, as the scissors near her face.

_Snip._ “Oops,” Allison says flatly. “Too late.”

Vanya watches sadly as locks of her wet hair fall down and onto the tiled floor. “How short are you going again?”

“Just trust me,” Allison tells her. “I’m a hairdresser, remember?”

“Yes,” Vanya says uncertainly, “but… is it really going to suit me?” She feels like she’s going to look ridiculous. She’s never been brave enough to rock short hair – she likes to have something to hide behind, something to keep her ears warm and to hide the splotches of red that appear on her neck when she gets flustered.

But soon enough, Allison says she’s done. They don’t have a blow-dryer, so they just have to wait, but – Vanya looks at her reflection expecting the worst.

“Oh,” she says. “I look different.”

“It’s a good different,” Allison says, beaming, admiring her handiwork. “Right? It’s chic, I can see your ears now. You look like a little pixie!”

Vanya blushes, and sure enough, her neck goes red. “Thanks, Allison.”

“Anytime,” she says. “Who knows how long we might be stuck here while Five figures out how to get us home? I think it’s a nice change. I mean it.”

“I think you’re right,” Vanya murmurs. Personally, she isn’t sure how long it will take for them to get home, or if it’s possible – Five’s avoiding the question with determination. But Allison – Allison has a daughter. She has something to hold onto, something to hope for. What does Vanya have? A drafty apartment?

No. Vanya has everything she needs right here.

And now, what _Allison_ needs is reassurance.

So Vanya awkwardly turns around and gives her sister a hug.

“Now it’s your turn,” she says after a while. “Right?”

Allison pulls away. “Ah, yeah – I had an idea about that, too.” She bends down to pick through a plastic bag on the floor, and comes up with some bottles of hair dye. “Now - bear with me - how do you think I’d look with purple hair?”

“Totally badass,” Vanya says, grinning.

…

“Your hair,” Five says, accusatory, as soon as the girls come out of the bathroom. Allison’s dye is developing – they have to wait about ten more minutes before they can wash it out, and that room is very poorly ventilated. “It’s gone.”

“It’s – it’s not _gone_ ,” Vanya splutters, self-conscious. “It’s just short. I – I like it.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Diego says to Five. “It looks cool, Vanya. Very… tough.” He smiles like he’s proud of himself for coming up with such a great compliment.

“Um. Thank you?”

“It’s nice,” Luther adds, genuinely. After everything… well, they haven’t really spoken. They should, eventually. But Vanya knows that he’s trying.

“Thanks,” she says, and he relaxes.

“It’s different,” Five says, dropping his gaze back down to the notebook in his hands, feverishly writing despite his calm demeanor. At least he’s clean now, and has changed into the clothes Allison bought – it’s extremely odd to see him dressed in normal clothes. Like he’s actually a _real_ person. And to her relief, she sees some band-aids poking out from under his hair, as well as bandages on his neck. “That’s good.”

Diego points at him. “I said _don’t_ be a—”

“Thank you, Five,” she interrupts. “It _is_ different.”

“Yes,” he says. “I noticed.” She smiles.

“As compelling as this is to listen to,” Klaus says, yelping, “I am currently being abducted.”

“I’m shaving your stupid hair,” Allison says, dragging him into the bathroom by the arms while he howls, “And there’s nothing you can do about it. And Diego? You’re _next._ ”

The bathroom door slams shut.

A few seconds later, there is the buzzing of an electric razor and the sound of anguished screams.

“She is terrifying,” Diego says.

“She just lost her husband,” Luther says defensively. “And now her daughter might not even exist.”

“Yeah, I _know_. We’re all stressed,” Diego says. “We’ve just been un-adopted. She deserves a…”

“An outlet?” Vanya offers.

“Yeah, but not our _hair!”_

At Diego’s words, the bathroom door opens again, and Allison kicks Klaus out.

“Lucky for you, I look incredible with _every_ style,” Klaus is yelling, hands on his head. His hair looks a _lot_ shorter. “Otherwise I’d be _really_ pissed off right now!” Vanya’s glad Allison didn’t go so short with _her,_ outlet or not.

“You _tell_ yourself that,” Allison snaps ferociously, and then turns to Vanya, beaming, victorious. She says sweetly, “Van, help me wash out my hair?”

“Yes ma’am,” Vanya mutters, and sees Five smile.

…

“Purple!” Luther says, staring. “Wow!”

“Vivid,” Five notes.

“It’s very – you look very nice!” Luther says, and then, flustered, goes back to stocking the tiny motel room’s fridge with their takeout leftovers, his face red.

“You look like a _My Little Pony_ ,” Diego says. Allison smacks him.

Vanya runs a hand through her own hair – it’s dry, now, and shorter than she was expecting. Her head feels lighter.

“So who gets the beds?” Klaus asks, already reclining across one.

_Oh, yeah,_ Vanya realises. _The sun’s gone down._

“I’ll take the armchair,” Five says distractedly, still writing equations in his book. “One of us has to keep watch.”

“We’re not camping in the middle of the wilderness, Bear Grylls,” Allison says disapprovingly. “When was the last time you slept, anyway?”

“You’d rather be ambushed in your sleep?”

“If anyone’s keeping watch, it should be me,” Vanya says, and everyone looks at her despite how timid she’s sure her voice sounds. She straightens. “I can hear everything happening in this building. If they come for us, I’ll know.”

“You can’t just stay awake all night,” Luther says.

Diego flips a knife in his hand thoughtfully. “She’s got a point, though.”

“ _I’m_ keeping watch, and that’s final,” Five says, in a voice that sounds so much like Dad, they all unconsciously cower.

Vanya tries, “Can’t we take shifts?”

Five’s mouth tightens. That means he doesn’t have a good argument.

“Shifts it is,” Klaus announces. “Day one of being fugitives – not so bad.”

“Shut up,” Allison groans.

“By day three they’ll be murdering each other,” Five says, and it takes Vanya a second to realise he’s talking to her.

“Oh – ah, yeah. Probably. We’ll have to find something to amuse them.”

“All those shopping bags,” he says, “and Allison didn’t think to buy a board game.”

They sit next to each other on the couch, and Vanya watches him scribble while everyone fights over bedding. Eventually, he raises his eyes to meet hers. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says.

“You want to ask something. So just ask.”

“Ok… Do you think everything will ever… I mean…”

“I’m working on it,” he says, sounding extremely tired. “All right? Don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t have to—” she frowns. “We want to help. Because we care. It doesn’t have to be a solo burden.”

“You didn’t care in Dallas,” he snaps, and then closes his eyes, and looks very old. “My apologies. That was unwarranted.”

“But true,” she says, sadly. “We haven’t given you very much reason to trust us, have we?”

“ _Of course_ I trust you.”

“Anyone else would have given up by now,” she says. “You love us more than we deserve.”

“Perhaps.” He looks back at his book. “And yet, you can’t stop me.”

That makes her smile. He sounds so obstinate. “I wouldn’t dream of trying.”

Five huffs and doesn’t respond, writing a few more lines.

“It’s too dark,” he declares all of a sudden. He slams his notebook shut. “I can’t see well enough to write.”

“Oh,” she says. She thought… never mind. “Um, well, I don’t think that lamp works—”

“Fine. I have no choice but to retire for the evening.”

“Well – I can see if there’s—”

“I have _no choice_ ,” Five emphasises, “than to _retire_ for the evening.”

_Ah._ He needs an excuse to rest. “I understand.” She hides a smile behind her hand. “I’ll take first watch, and you can sleep.”

The room only has two double beds – it seems that Luther and Klaus have taken one, and Diego and Allison are sharing the other. _That ought to end well,_ Vanya thinks, amused, watching them fight for space.

“Sorry, Vanya,” Allison says, kicking Diego. “I tried to tell them—"

“You snooze, you lose,” Klaus sings.

“Do you want my spot?” Allison asks.

Vanya looks at her eyebags and shakes her head. “Those beds are too soft for my back anyway. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Okay,” Allison says, looking relieved. “Wake me up when it’s my shift.”

“Sure,” Vanya lies, looking at Five. They both know that it will be just the two of them taking turns tonight. Vanya, funnily enough, is fine with that.

Five blinks onto the couch, arranging a pillow and blanket.

“I’m just going to brush my teeth,” Vanya whispers.

“What?”

She lowers her eyebrows. “You know… brush my teeth?” When his expression is still blank, she mimes the action, feeling stupid.

“Oh!” Five shakes his head, swallows. “Yes.” As always, the reminder of the life he’s lived breaks her heart a little bit.

“You should brush yours too,” she says quietly. “I think the others forgot.”

“They have other things to concern themselves with,” Five says gently. That seems generous, coming from him. He purses his lips. “Sure. I’ll… brush my teeth.”

“You’re taller than me already,” Vanya says, frowning, as she examines their reflections in the mirror side-by-side.

“I am, aren’t I?” Five says, and he sounds just a tiny bit smug.

“Not fair,” she mutters.

“I’ve found that life rarely is,” he says, and spits. “I lied to you.”

“What?”

“Before. I said you didn’t need to worry.” He doesn’t look at her, running the toothbrush under the tap. “That was a lie. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Vanya’s heart stutters. She feels… dread, at his words, but also relief. That he trusted her enough to tell her the truth. “Five…”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits hollowly, staring at his reflection. “Again.”

“There’s… no chance? Nothing?”

“This isn’t a parallel universe,” he says. “We can’t just _hop_ over to the next one and go home. This _is_ our home. Our actions in the past changed it. There’s – I can go back – it won’t ever be the _same._ ”

_Dad,_ Vanya thinks. _Because he never adopted us. We never grew up at the Academy… Allison never met…_ She holds onto the edge of the sink for stability. Her stomach churns. _God._

Five seems to be sharing the same train of thought. “How do I _explain_ ,” Five says, the words coming out rough and jagged, “to Allison, that her daughter doesn’t… that she isn’t…”

“I don’t know,” Vanya says, her eyes starting to burn. “I don’t…”

“Neither do I,” Five says, his voice small. “This isn’t her fault. She didn’t… Claire didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

Vanya doesn’t have a good answer. She thinks about Harlan. She rinses her toothbrush and fights tears. “No.”

“And I never got to meet her,” Five whispers furiously, his face suddenly twisting. He throws the toothbrush onto the tiles in a rare display of childish anger. He puts his hands over his face. “Shit. _Shit_.”

Vanya carefully puts her arms around him, not too tightly, and feels him sob silently and shudder. “Me neither.”

_The break,_ she thinks. _Not a wave of destruction._

_Imploding. Apoptosis. Self-annihilation._

“I’m sorry,” he says into his hands. “I don’t know what’s co-come over me.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, and squeezes her eyes shut even as hot tears escape. “None of this is your fault. _None_ of it. Okay?”

“It’s _not_ okay,” he hisses, and then sobs again, this time making an awful gasping noise in the back of his throat.

_Oh, God,_ she thinks. _He’s really having a breakdown. I’m not qualified for this._ “Oh, I know that. But you don’t always have to have the answer, Five.”

“But how—” he breaks off. “How am I going to tell Allison?”

“I’ll worry about that,” she says. “Let’s just give it a few days. That’s a problem to deal with then, not right now, all right?”

“It’s _cruel_ to let her have hope.”

“Maybe you have a point.” She presses her face into his hair and sighs. She knows what the right thing to say is. “I’ll do it, okay?”

“I should do it,” he says, but he’s weakening. “It should be _me_.”

“But it _could_ be me,” she says. “I’ll tell her.”

“Tell her that I killed her daughter.”

Vanya pulls him closer. “No! It’s _not_ your fault.” It’s hers – it’s Dad’s.

“That’s not how she’ll see it.”

“Allison is smart. _Dad_ is the only one to blame. She’ll know that.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then – I don’t know,” she says helplessly. “Grief has… no easy solution.”

“I know,” he says, slumping. “I know that.”

He lets her hold him for a few more minutes before pulling away. His face is damp and red, but he also seems just slightly lighter – as if a weight has been lifted off him. He scrubs at his eyes, irritated.

“Five?” Vanya says.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” she tells him. “I know we kinda had this conversation before, but – I missed you. And I’m really happy you’re home.”

“But this isn’t your home,” he says, his voice thick with guilt. She wishes she could make it go away. “This is the _wrong_ home.” She knows that he is thinking of the Ben who isn’t Ben, their Dad who isn’t their father. But there are four idiots in the other room that Vanya would gladly die for, and that’s more than enough for her.

“Don’t tell _them_ I said this,” Vanya says lightly, whispering, “but my home… well… I kinda like this one more.”

Five stares at her for a second, and then says angrily, “I _just_ stopped bawling, Vanya. Please, shut up, or I’ll start again.”

“Sorry,” she says awkwardly, smiling. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” He breathes out sharply, shakily. “Anyway, you won’t be saying that in two days when they’re at each-others’ throats and out of their minds with cabin fever.”

“That’s why we need the board games.”

“I don’t think this is the right time to encourage a round of knife monopoly,” Five says. “Diego might actually kill someone.”

Vanya wipes her cheek and laughs breathlessly. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he says simply. “It’s one of the most pleasant memories I have left.” He turns away before she can answer. “I’m gonna sleep now. And you’d better wake me up for my shift.” He opens the bathroom door and turns off the light, so the whole motel room is immersed in dense darkness.

“Yes,” she says. “But if you’re too unconscious for me to easily wake, I’ll just get Luther. Okay?”

There is a pause. She hears the springs in the sofa creak as she sits in the armchair. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling although he can’t see it. “Goodnight, Five.”

“Goodnight, Vanya,” he says, and then it is just her and the sounds of five other people breathing softly in the room.

And things are bad. _They’re terrible,_ Vanya knows; they’re stuck in a world that has no place for them, with a group of super-heroes with their last names, hunting them down with an unknowable agenda. Nothing has been fixed. There is no answer.

They’re out of time, hopeless, homeless.

And yet.

They’re together.

And it’s better than nothing.

Vanya listens to her family breathe, and she listens for intruders, and she waits for the break.

**Author's Note:**

> Mwah. I love them. as always if this feels unfinished please keep in mind it was written in ONE SINGLE DAY AND MY BETA IS GETTING REAL SICK OF THIS CHALLENGE. MY HANDS HURT SO BAD
> 
> tomorrow i'm taking the train into the city all day! how will this affect my writing "schedule"? who knows! that seems like a problem for future me.
> 
> Goodnight friends! Hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
